smell of flowers brought her sweetness to him, and the very
sunshine lying upon the September fields thrilled him like the
warmth of her rare smile. He found himself fleeing like a hunted
animal from the memory which he could not put away, and despite
the almost frenzied haste with which he presently fell to work,
he saw always the light and gracious figure which had come to him
along the red clay road. The fervour which had shone suddenly in
her eyes, the quiver of her mouth as she turned away, the poise
of her head, the gentle, outstretched hand he had repulsed, the
delicate curve of her wrist beneath the falling sleeve, the very
lace on her bosom fluttering in the still weather as if a light
wind were blowing--these things returned to torture him like the
delirium of fever. Appealing as the memory was, it aroused in his
distorted mind all the violence of his old fury, and he felt
again the desire for revenge working like madness in his blood.
It was as if every emotion of his life swept on, to empty itself
at last into the wide sea of his hatred.




VII. In Which Hero and Villain Appear as One

A month later Christopher's conversation with Carraway returned
to him, when, coming one morning from the house with his dogs at
his heels and his squirrel gun on his shoulder, he found Will
Fletcher and a troop of spotted foxhound puppies awaiting him
outside the whitewashed gate.

"I want to speak to you a moment, Mr. Blake," began the boy, in